


Fear the Wolf

by JetLikeTheJewel



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Depression, Wolf Attack, no justice, true story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-17
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-09-18 03:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9365675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetLikeTheJewel/pseuds/JetLikeTheJewel
Summary: This is a true story that happened to me that has affected me to this day. It regards my move to a new state, a wolf attack that I encountered in front of me, and my failed suicide during all of this. This contains some graphic details, and it is not for the faint of heart. And this entire ordeal started in November. The names in this have all been changed for the sake of protection and privacy. Viewer discretion is advised.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just to forward you, there is some violence, and some sensitive content. Please do not read this if you don't like any of those things. I only wrote this because I needed an outlet for all this depression, frustration, and anger.

**Before you read this, I need you to know that I had changed the names of everyone for the sake of protection should this ordeal ever come to court.**

 

The move was very harsh. We had abandoned pretty much everything except our clothes and a few necessities. We took what we could carry, and I rode a plane for the first time. I couldn’t stand the ear popping-which led to headaches...but I remember looking out the window at the land were were endlessly passing...it surprised me how everything was so straight and square-ish like Minecraft. It was a boring, yet pleasant ride.

 

When we landed, everything just felt so surreal. It was like reality was lagging, and the shock of this entire situation hadn’t hit me yet. It was like being at an impasse, where you couldn’t decide what to think or feel-so you function normally...well...by normal, I mean no reaction whatsoever.

 

We had stayed at a Motel 6 for almost 2 weeks, and...it was terrible. The only highlight was laying on a bed that was not infested with bedbugs, being able to watch cartoons all day every day, and having fast food almost all the time. Within two days, the reality and horror had finally struck. And I was more homesick than I had ever been in my life.  Which didn’t really make sense…

 

I was leaving a life that was poor. A life of surviving everyday, scraping to get by...running out of food before the second week of every month, living with a severe bedbug infestation, living in a dangerous neighborhood, walking everywhere because we couldn’t afford a car, and being unable to afford the very basic essentials from time to time. Hell, going to a hospital for a swollen eye from an eyelash wasn’t even considered an emergency...just a huge inconvenience. And a “waste of money” according to my own Father.

 

We had lived this life for almost a decade, because of my mother abruptly splitting with my father-and kidnapping my severely autistic sister.

 

But that’s another story.

 

The aftermath was an unending consequence...my mother is living and doing whatever she wants, and we have to pay for her mistakes. It’s a punishment that we don’t deserve.

 

Anyway...

 

Before spring of last year, my father had become a devoted mormon, and a couple missionaries would visit him all the time. He was happy and proud for the first time in years. I, to this day have very mixed feelings about it. On one hand, I’m glad he’s happy and has found his faith.

 

On the other...I never really trusted any religion due to an incident when I was 13 regarding that the Preacher's son in a christian church I went to raped a little girl.

 

That’s one of the many reasons why I went against any religion of God. For years, I would not associate with any religious order, because I was terrified that they would change who I am and what I represent. For a while I hated God, and blamed him for my life.

 

Up until a few months ago, I realized my hatred was not with god...but with humanity itself. I hated how they could just twist a religion to their advantage, by taking what they wanted and being very judging of others. Making accusations like, “If you don’t wear skirts, you will go to Hell.” “If you have sex, you will go to Hell.”

Making us dress and act a certain way, and attacking other religious gatherings. It’s toxic, and that’s why I never sided with any religion. Because I didn’t want to be labeled.

Don’t misunderstand-I believe in God. I believe in Jesus, the Devil and the demons, and the spirits and angels…

But I am not mormon nor catholic. Nor Christian or Muslim.

 

I am a believer of God. And I hold immense hatred for our flawed race.

Nothing more, nothing less.

 

I don’t wish our race was obliterated or anything like that...I just wish we were all truthful, loyal, kind, responsible, and understanding.

 

Call me crazy-whatever makes you feel better. Just respect my beliefs.

 

During this time, my Dad had such a strong faith, that he wanted us to move to the Mormon state, Utah.

I had no idea how to feel about this, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t uncomfortable from this decision.

 

Anyway, back to the Motel 6…

 

Despite the help we received from the mormon church and the precautions we made...we were completely unprepared.

My Father was out all the time, leaving a note and a small bag of food for me and my sister almost every morning.

 

He was going to different places by cab, trying to find a home. Those bags of food got smaller and smaller each day, and we had to eat tiny bags of cheez itz and cookies with powerade for a short while. My Dad was always out, given so many phone numbers and being put on hold or given outdated numbers all the time. It was a wild goose chase, and our stay at the Motel 6 was thinning beneath our feet.

 

When we finally found a place, it was a cheap rundown apartment that was once a motel a long time ago. Just to give you an idea of this place...There were 10 apartment doors, each door cramped closely to the other. Two giant metal black staircases on both sides to the upstairs, one of them had a weak landing. The building itself is very old, and it needs a lot of repairs. Our building manager, who is acting as landlord, was an old overweight man named Thomas. He was(and still is) a greedy old man that takes advantage of the tenants, by changing the rent on each door, and giving a 300$ non-refundable pet deposit fee. Many of the tenants needed repairs, including us.

 

We have a sink that leaks on the right, and gets plugged up on the left. We need to use a toilet plunger everytime we do dishes. Our bathroom door has the top right hinges completely broken off, and we have to pick it up and shut it each time we have to use the bathroom. One of the tiles on the kitchen floor is loose, and we are constantly tripping over it. 2 doors in our house don’t even fit in the frame, and one of our windows doesn’t even have a screen. We didn’t even have a showerhead for a while, and my Dad had to seal the bathtub base with a tube of silicone.

 

We have constantly been begging Tom to fix the sink, and it’s like pulling teeth. He had finally fixed part of the sink when my Dad paid him 50$...we waited for three months for him to fix it.

When he did fix it, the fix didn’t even last that long. The black pipe under the sink completely broke off on the right side, and we use a giant bowl to catch some of the water.

 

 So...leading up to the incident.

My Father needed to work for Tom and his son to afford the rent. A little bit about my dad: He has severe diabetes, adima, water gain, and swelling in both of his legs. He is fairly overweight, and suffers from arthritis, sleep apnea, and he’s an avid smoker.

 

My Father literally had to get on his hands and knees to scrub floor tiles, and painting in different houses with Tom.

 

It really damaged his health further, and he was always stressed out and exhausted. My Dad eventually had to quit in October, and I was relieved.

 

I forgot the most important thing that I need to mention. Our landlord, Tom...owned a 25% malamute, 75% timber wolf hybrid male, named Lobo.

 

He had owned this wolf for less than two years, and it was freaking HUGE. He was so beautiful, and he lived in a small filthy 5ft tall fence that was less than 10 feet wide. His water was always dirty, he had shit everywhere, and his food bowl was just filled with cheap dog food. I fell in love with Lobo, and had gotten even brave enough to pet him. There was a time that I would visit him at his pen a few times a day, every day. I would sometimes feed him bread(when I got Tom’s permission, of course.) and play with him each chance I got. Everytime he saw me, he would jump up and lick my clothes and face, and even playfully bite my arm. He would always like having his butt scratched lol.

 

Every day he would stay out in that pen, and he would come in at night, living inside Tom’s bathtub.

 

Fast forward to just after the second week of November...

 

I had been working for my Dad at home with chores, expecting to be paid 100$ a month so I could afford a cosplay, and meeting my internet in person for the first time next fall. He couldn’t afford it, so...I decided to babysit dogs.

 

I signed up on an online site, and got my first job within a couple days, which made me feel really lucky. Within the next three days, I got hired for 115$ to dogsit them at my place until the first week of December.

 

I watched a black pug boxer mix named Radar, and a dachshund corgi mix named Buddy . It...really helped with my depression, and it gave me something to do when the internet was gone that whole time.

Now originally, I wanted to keep this a secret from Tom, because I was afraid he wouldn’t allow it and/or he would try to take some of the money. My Father had told him, and I was really surprised  when Tom came to my door and congratulated me, dropping off two two liters of Cola. This treatment and praise was so unlike him, and I was completely baffled.

 

Anyway…

 

Everything went smoothly after that. Radar was such a sweetheart and an attention hog, often chasing the house flies and playing with his brother. Buddy on the other hand, was very shy. It took him a while to trust me, and he bit me a couple times. Less than a few days before they were supposed to come, the owners told me they would want my services in the future because I did such a good job.

  
On Thanksgiving night, our drunk neighbor-Lauren, told us that Lobo escaped.

**Author's Note:**

> This small story will be put in three parts.


End file.
